


Enigmatic

by DictionaryWrites



Series: Patron Minette Week 2013 (1-7 Dec) [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Naked Cuddling, Spooning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 03:53:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1065455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a post on Tumblr - Éponine and Montparnasse spooning, with Montparnasse as the little spoon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enigmatic

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Post On Tumblr](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/31603) by jewishjoly. 



"Sleep with me." The request would not come across as needy to anyone who did not know Montparnasse. Unfortunately for the dandy, Éponine knew Montparnasse far better than any other woman, and especially any other, man, so she noted the ever so slight quaver to his tone, the tiny, almost invisible jump of those pretty, pretty lips, the slight widen of his eyes.

"Alright." She said, and Montparnasse’s apparent anxiety melted away, and he smiled. Montparnasse was arresting when he smiled, far prettier than he usually was, which was very pretty indeed. Éponine wished she was as pretty as Montparnasse, some days, and she wondered how right it was that it should be that way.

She went easily to his cosy place on the edge of the city, far more pleasant than anything anyone she knew kept. She had no idea how he managed to pay for it, given that all of his money seemed to go on the most charming garments she had ever laid eyes upon (or on soap to get the blood stains from the fabric), and yet he did.

It was warm when they entered, for the room was scattered all over with cushions, blankets, throws, and all manner of little pieces of decoration that served doubly as insulation, and she hummed as he went about lighting a candle. 

Éponine began to remove her dress.

She considered what it would feel like to do this in front of the student boy, to see Marius’ eyes upon her as she bared dirty skin to comfortably warm air, to see the swell of her breasts and the curve of her hips - a curve that was more than it should have been, perhaps, for Éponine Thénardier was many things, and well-fed was not one of them.

"You are darling." Montparnasse said. Marius would not gaze upon her as Montparnasse did, with his bright smile of pink lips and white teeth, captivated eyes, and plain affection painted across his countenance. No, Marius would no doubt be disgusted with her, and at that remembrance, she put the thought of him entirely from her mind as she took a step forwards, her feet bare on Montparnasse’s bare-board floor, to put her hands on Montparnasse’s cravat and begin to undo it.

Montparnasse liked to be undressed. Éponine did not know why, but she could not escape giving a fond smile at the way he leaned into her touches as she stripped away layer upon layer of pretty garments, and set them aside, neatly folded. “You are ridiculous.” She said as she regarded his stockings, dipping to undo the clips keeping them in place, and Montparnasse laughed.

"I am a rose amongst daisies, my dear Éponine." And this was true, so Éponine did not argue. 

They slid into bed together, initially lying on their backs amongst Montparnasse’s plush, comfortable sheets and too-many blankets. Éponine knew she would struggle to sleep, because Montparnasse’s mattress was too soft and she was not used to such warmth about her (and even though Montparnasse continued to offer, she would never allow herself to become used to it by returning every evening).

And then Montparnasse turned on his side, facing away from her, and Éponine pressed against his back, curling her thin, petite arms around his waist and pressing her face to the jut of his shoulder. Montparnasse was a good foot taller than her, and with his clothes off one could feel the muscle on his lithe form, and perhaps to an artist drawing the pose, they would have looked silly.

Éponine did not care so much as they looked silly, because Montparnasse let out the dreamiest little sigh, and he relaxed in her arms, every fraction of the slightest tension drifting away from his pretty form.

Montparnasse would try no funny business. Montparnasse never did, unless Éponine initiated it - this was, perhaps, because Montparnasse enjoyed being seduced far more than he enjoyed seducing, although he would never admit this in words. _  
_

That was alright: with Éponine, he did not need to use his words.

“‘Ponine, you are wonderful.”

"I am, aren’t I?" Éponine said, and Montparnasse’s voice was like thick honey, low and sweet, and she pressed a kiss to his shoulder. Her hands must have been freezing on his warm skin, but Montparnasse made not even the barest of complaint.

Within twenty minutes, he was sleeping, his outward breaths too soft to be called snores, and Éponine let herself mould against his back, her little legs small against his long ones. She might not have loved this with the passion Montparnasse did, but she certainly enjoyed it, and she went lax on the bed beside him, closing her eyes and enjoying his warmth, his weight against her, the sound of his breathing.

It was nice to see Montparnasse without his five dozen walls up, pretending to be some unfeeling, romantic criminal from a two-sou poem of one of the students. It was charming, all in all, and Éponine smiled a little as she let her thoughts drift. 

Montparnasse, to the many, was an enigma. Montparnasse, to Éponine, was a man. 


End file.
